


The Lights in Suburbia

by Sholio



Series: Pistol Packin' Mama [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Multi, OT3, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 01:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6882751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/pseuds/Sholio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow-up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5996482">Pistol Packin' Mama</a>. In the morning after, Peggy, Jack, and Daniel keep trying to figure things out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lights in Suburbia

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pistol Packin' Mama](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5996482) by [Sholio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/pseuds/Sholio). 



> Written for a tumblr prompt by peepingnee, who wanted to see more of the characters in [Pistol Packin' Mama](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5996482). Thank you! :D ([Originally posted on Tumblr here.](http://sholiofic.tumblr.com/post/144498666418/id-love-to-see-a-follow-up-to-pistol-packin-mama))
> 
> ... and yes, there was takeout pizza in the 1940s! Apparently not too different from takeout pizza today (on a stiff cardboard base, slid into a paper bag). In earlier decades it was rolled up and tied with a string, sometimes sold at room temperature to be reheated on the stove at home. D: ([Gratuitous history of takeout pizza](http://slice.seriouseats.com/archives/2011/07/a-brief-history-of-the-pizza-box.html))

Peggy was expecting, on some level, to go back to the city immediately. Case solved, time to commute back to the New York office and put the stamp on the report. Except of course they didn't, because there was a giant sinkhole where a neighboring house used to be and gossip flying around the neighborhood as fast as the suburban grapevine could carry it, and having a local base of operations made it a lot easier to carry out damage control.

Jack had decided to hang around for another couple of days rather than heading back to the office straightaway, possibly due to his present concussion-induced inability to drive. In a different world, this might have given them the opportunity to nest for a day or three before having to figure out how to deal with what inexplicably seemed to be happening to them. Instead they were all extremely awkward around each other throughout the afternoon (having slept through the morning). Jack spent most of his time on the phone to New York -- also wincing at too-bright lights and looking faintly nauseated most of the time -- while Peggy and Daniel sallied out in turn to see how the sinkhole investigation and tunnel mapping was coming along.

It turned out that, when not flooded, the tunnel system was truly extensive. A lot of it consisted of preexisting tunnels, utility corridors and the like, but it still seemed that enemy agencies had been attempting to undermine the East Coast for quite some time. The SSR analysts seemed to be having a field day with it all.

"You want to go back down there, don't you," Daniel sighed, finding Peggy at the edge of the hole as dusk settled on suburban New Jersey. It was still drizzling lightly, with a dark sky hinting at heavier rain later on. The SSR had put up CAUTION tape all around the yard to keep curious neighbors out, and parked a utility truck prominently in front of the house to help with the credibility of their official explanation, "gas leak".

"Of course I do. Sadly it's still flooded. And there's no telling where Dottie has got off to by now. We were so close, Daniel!"

"Yeah, well, right now you're soaked to the skin -- again -- and if you're feeling anything like I am today, you probably don't even feel up to walking fast, let alone assassin-hunting in the catacombs." Daniel reached out and gave her arm a gentle tug. The warm brush of his fingers brought back memories of last night, painful in their intensity. "Come on, Peggy. Let's go get something to eat."

"Hmm." She tried to remember the last time she'd properly eaten anything other than bites of cold casserole snatched in the kitchen. "Do we _have_ anything to eat?"

"I don't know. We can order takeout."

Peggy looked at him.

"Suburbs," they said together, resignedly.

One of the SSR interns was dispatched to find takeout food somewhere ("I don't care what it is, as long as it's hot and it's here inside an hour") and then the two of them walked back to the "Dan and Marge Henderson" house in the growing darkness and deepening rain. Peggy had slept part of the day away and spent the rest of it mainly poring over maps and looking at SSR analysts' charts of the tunnel system and records of local movement of construction supplies, yet she still felt exhausted, aching in every joint, acutely aware of her bruises from last night.

Light streamed out of the windows of the SSR safehouse, gleaming through the rain. It looked homey and warm, and made Peggy think of last night (was it only last night?), standing on the back step and looking out through the rain, thinking about roads not taken. Thinking about a world in which this was her life, and trying to picture living this life with Daniel.

She hadn't been able to. There was a puzzle piece missing. And now she knew what that piece was, or thought she did, but she still didn't know what she was going to do about it.

Could the kind of thing she was contemplating even _work?_ Of course it could, she told herself; people had lived stranger lives. There were those who said that it was unnatural of her, unwomanly, to work for the SSR. She had known more than a few men and women who preferred the company of their own sex; she had also known a few men (it was usually men, at least in her experience) who had both a wife and a mistress, and people of both sexes who dallied with numerous lovers and never settled down.

It was a wide world with many choices in it.

"Peggy, you comin'?" Daniel asked, turning back from the porch, and she realized she was standing in the rain, watching the lamplight paint the wet lawn in shades of gold. She really _was_ tired.

"We must start trying to track Dottie again," she said, wrenching her mind firmly back to work-related matters. "I have a few thoughts on that topic."

"I'm sure you'll be happy to share them with us," Daniel said wryly, opening the door.

They found Jack on the sofa with an arm flung over his face. "I'm up," he said without moving or raising his arm.

"You have a concussion," Peggy retorted, sitting down across from him and peeling off her wet shoes. They squelched as they came off. "You probably should not have been _up_ at all. Have you eaten anything?"

"Ngghh," was the only answer.

"Food's on the way," Daniel said, stumping off to the bathroom. "At least I assume so. We sent Intern Melvin to get it."

"Enjoy your case of food poisoning," Jack said from under his arm.

There was no answer except for industrious rustling and clunking sounds from behind the bathroom's closed door. Peggy deduced that Daniel was dealing with whatever cleaning procedure he had to perform when the leg got wet. She wrung out her hair, contemplated getting up to change into something dry, and belatedly realized that she was getting the chair wet. She would be very glad when she managed to get enough sleep to get her brain fully engaged again -- though, really, as she knew from wartime, _partial_ sleep was worse than none; if she'd managed to stay up rather than crashing in the early morning hours, she would probably be feeling less dazed and dragged-out ...

Jack finally took his arm off his face, squinting at her. "You're wet," he said.

"Yes I am, Jack."

"You want to, uh ... get dry?"

"I suppose I should," she sighed. "This is another perfectly good work suit I've ruined. I'll be completely out of fresh ones soon."

Jack lurched to his feet and hung onto the arm of the sofa for a moment until he got his equilibrium. "Bring you something dry," he explained when she looked at him.

"I can do it." She managed to get her tired body in gear and hoisted herself to her feet.

In the bedroom, she wearily opened the drawers where she'd stashed her small supply of packed clothing, and then looked up to find that Jack had followed her to the doorway.

"Sorry," he said, looking suddenly embarrassed and awkward -- the same embarrassment and "we may have made a terrible mistake" that had been following all of them around like a dark cloud all day. "I can ... I'll go."

"No," Peggy said quietly. "Give me a hand with this?" She turned around to expose the row of buttons on her dress, and held her wet hair out of the way.

Silence; then she heard Jack's soft steps cross the bedroom floor to her. His hands touched the dress, a light brush before he gently and carefully began to unbutton her. "You have to do all this yourself every day, huh?" he murmured, working his way down the row of small buttons.

"You fasten your suspenders every day, all by yourself?"

Jack huffed a small laugh. "Fair hit, Carter. Fair hit."

The unbuttoned dress sagged loose over her bust, exposing the back of her all-in-one girdle. Jack's hands touched her shoulders lightly, sliding down the sleeves of her dress. She glanced up and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the dresser. She was a mess, the hair that she'd pinned up in early afternoon (after its disastrous adventures last night) down and straggling again with the rain.

And Jack was looking at her over her shoulder in the mirror -- an appalling mess himself, bandaged around the head, his hair in total disarray. He was gazing at her, at Peggy with her hair in a knotted mass of dark curls and the folds of the dress's fabric gathered over her breasts ... and his eyes were soft and fascinated, as if she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Take it off?" she whispered, raising an arm with the folds of the dress pooled around it.

He pushed it down her arm, slid over her hand, and then did the other side. The blouse of the dress fell loosely around her hips, dangling from its tight waist, leaving her bare above with only her foundation garment underneath.

Jack hesitated, then bent his head and kissed her naked shoulder lightly.

"Oh good Lord," Daniel said from the doorway.

"Do not even suggest leaving," Peggy said firmly. Her eyes were half closed, with Jack's warm hands resting on her shoulders, his body firm against her back. When she looked up, she saw Daniel -- inverted, in the mirror -- cross the floor and sit on the bed. He was using the crutch, but his prosthetic leg was off, the trouser leg pinned up. He had changed into dry trousers and an undershirt, but that was all he had on, leaving his foot bare and exposing his muscular shoulders.

"So," Daniel said. He cleared his throat. "This ... is a thing, now. A thing. We're doing."

In answer, Peggy shoved the dress over her hips and let it fall to pool around her feet. Jack leaned in to kiss her shoulder again --

The doorbell rang.

Peggy dived for the dress, knocking Jack off balance. He reeled sideways and grabbed the dresser for support.

"That'd be Melvin," Daniel said between his teeth. "I am going to _kill_ him."

"But for a counterargument," Peggy pointed out, starting to pull the dress up over her body, "food."

"Good argument." Jack caught her hand in the process of putting the sleeve back on. "Hey, Sousa can get it. Go get the food, Sousa?"

"Bossy," Daniel murmured, crutching out of the bedroom.

"I _am_ your boss!"

The only answer was a disgruntled snort from Daniel. Jack gently pushed the door closed, not quite all the way, so they could both still peek out and listen. There wasn't much to see or hear. Daniel retrieved the takeout bags from Melvin and firmly closed the door in his face, leaving him standing, bedraggled in the rain, on the doorstep.

"What'd he get?" Peggy asked, pulling the door open a trifle. The living-room blinds were not entirely closed, so she didn't want to give the whole neighborhood a show or, God forbid, even more reason for gossip.

"Pizza," Daniel reported, looking into the bag.

Jack perked up. Peggy deflated somewhat. However, she was not currently in a mood to be picky about food ... or choosy about how to eat it. "Bring it in here," she declared, sitting on the floor.

And so they ate sitting on Peggy's bedroom floor, directly out of the bag. Peggy was in her undergarments (having dispensed completely with the unbuttoned dress), Daniel with the stump of his leg stretched out, and Jack leaning on the dresser, with a pillow that Peggy retrieved from the bed and handed to him, since sitting upright didn't seem to be entirely working for him at the moment. He managed to eat a piece and a half before shoving the box away.

Daniel got up without speaking -- getting off the floor was markedly more difficult for him than for the others, but Peggy noticed that he had the quick, smooth motion down to an art by now -- and left the room, returning shortly with a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water, which he passed Jack's way.

"Are you entirely sure you don't want to go to the hospital for that concussion?" Peggy asked as Jack swallowed a handful of aspirin. Daniel had reseated himself so that his bare foot was rather shyly brushing her bare leg. She stretched her leg to press her thigh against his toes.

"I just need to sleep it off," Jack said wearily, eyes shut.

Peggy reached out, after only a brief hesitation, remembering how Jack (or Daniel, she still wasn't sure) had scritched at her scalp the night before, and how good it had felt. She touched his forehead, and Jack flinched and opened his eyes.

"Hold still, would you?"

"That sounded vaguely threatening," Jack said, rolling his eyes in Daniel's direction as if seeking help.

Peggy ignored the peanut gallery and carefully evaded the bandage and the bruised and swollen side of his head, sliding her fingers deep into his hair. It was softer than it looked, even dried uncombed from last night. She ran her fingers over his scalp, not really scratching, just rubbing.

Jack, for lack of a better word, _melted_ \-- oozing into the pillow and slumping bonelessly against the dresser.

"Wow, Peggy, you found the off button," Daniel said. He scooted a little closer to her, emboldened. 

"Peggy," Jack murmured without opening his eyes, "please kick Sousa for me."

"I shall do nothing of the sort." She reached out with her other hand for Daniel, and found his hand, his arm, drawing him close to her. His fingers were slightly sticky with pizza grease ... but they'd shared messier things lately, hadn't they?

Daniel leaned into her side. His hand rested carefully on her thigh. She curled her fingers over his, and went on rubbing Jack's head, while Daniel leaned into her shoulder and brushed his lips against her neck.

God. She could stay here forever, drowning in this moment, with Jack's hair soft against her fingers and Daniel leaning warm into her side, brushing her neck with gentle kisses.

She had found love twice before -- future, safety, stability with Fred; excitement, wonder, partnership with Steve. Either of them could have been her forever. Neither of them were diminished by this.

And every time falling was like the first time.

She slid closer to Jack, with Daniel keeping pace, and found herself between them. Jack flinched when she kissed the slightly greasy corner of his mouth, and opened his eyes, drawn back from somewhere else.

"Don't wake up," she said softly, and kissed his temple. "Do you feel better?"

"Aspirin is kicking in." He turned his head, kissed her cheek and then her mouth.

Daniel was still nibbling gently on her neck. Peggy snugged her arm around him, pulling him in. She wanted suddenly to wrap herself up in them, as if she could make a blanket of them to keep her from the cold times that life, as she knew so well, could always bring.

Daniel kissed her neck, her collarbone, and reached an arm over her to grope across Jack's chest, through the open collar of his shirt to brush the soft skin at his collarbone. Jack was still kissing Peggy, but he caught Daniel's hand with his own of a sudden, and brought it up to their mouths, brushing the knuckles across their joined lips. Peggy felt Daniel shiver, and she smiled into Jack's mouth, and took the time to nibble Daniel's knuckles lightly. She felt Jack, his face brushing her own, doing likewise and even drawing one of Daniel's fingertips into his mouth.

"I don't _believe_ this," Daniel murmured into her neck.

"Good Catholic boy?" Jack said playfully, licking his way along the side of Daniel's hand.

"Yes, but that's irrelevant ... to ... have either of you even asked yourselves how this is going to _work_?"

"Do you mind?" Peggy asked quietly. She kissed the edge of his mouth and then captured his lips fully with her own. She'd kissed him last night, but this time she wasn't completely out of her head with exhaustion and the adrenaline edge of their near escape. This time, she could just enjoy the sweet-salty texture of his lips, a little softer than Jack's, but no less gentle.

On her other side, Jack was still doing something interesting to Daniel's fingers.

"Do you really," Daniel gasped, between kisses, "think I _mind_?"

"Lady's being thorough," Jack said in between his lovemaking to Daniel's hand.

"Don't make me come over there, Thompson."

"Please do," Jack said, nibbling Daniel's wrist.

"Didn't you find his off switch?" Daniel asked, a little breathless as Peggy transferred her attentions to his ear. Someone's stray hand -- she thought it might be Jack's -- had migrated to the silky fabric of her all-in-one where it dimpled across the crease between her thighs.

"I'm afraid I found his on switch instead," she murmured, and dipped her tongue into the hollow behind Daniel's ear, just to make him jerk and shiver. She wasn't disappointed.

She was, however, completely caught off guard when Daniel reached an arm behind her back, wrapped his other across Jack's chest, and caught up both of them in a hug. Peggy was sandwiched in the middle, a little uncomfortably. After a moment she felt Jack start to hesitantly hug back, and she got her arms free to wrap around each of them.

And so they stayed for a long moment, easing gradually back into kisses that were not so much urgent as gentle and slow. Peggy and Daniel, Peggy and Jack; Jack and Daniel, leaning across her for a careful and leisurely kiss with Peggy pressed under Daniel's shoulder, into the crook of Jack's arm.

Peggy bit Jack's ear to get them to break apart so she could breathe again.

"This is a little more complicated than just making love to a woman," Jack said with a breathy little laugh.

"Thank you for the insight, Sherlock," said Daniel, who was now partly in Peggy's lap.

"Yeah, but you've got only one mouth --" which in Daniel's case was now nibbling around the cleavage area of Peggy's undergarment -- "and only a limited number of -- you know --"

"Genitals?" Peggy supplied.

"Thank you, Marge, I can always count on you to be ... you."

Peggy somewhat aggressively kissed the corner of Jack's half-closed eye, the side of his face, while Daniel did nice things to her cleavage and one of Jack's arms wrapped around her back. "Teamwork," she said, a little breathlessly. "That's how it works."

"Say what now?"

"Teamwork," she said, and then Daniel got to her nipples _finally,_ and she kissed Jack on the mouth and had no breath to say anything else, while the movement of Daniel's shoulder indicated that one of his hands had wandered down to southern-trending parts of Jack. But she was still thinking it: because that was how this whole thing had started, and how it _had_ to work, the way they could function seamlessly as a team when they stopped getting in each other's way and just _did_ it.

And there in that ridiculous suburban house, with their knees half in the remains of a greasy pizza takeout bag, she loved them both so desperately that all the world focused down to nothing but this moment, to nothing but them.


End file.
